


Devil's Blade

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Dream Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, M/M, Non Consensual, Restraints, Shaving, Topping from the Bottom, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:42:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a close shave with the devil.  Dean's there to catch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Blade

“What I've always wondered,” Lucifer asks as he carefully tests the hone of his blade against his thumbnail, “is how you two are always so clean-shaven?”

 

Sam couldn't answer him if he wanted to, not that he would. Instead he just grips his hands tighter against the cold arms of the metal chair and looks anywhere but into the eyes of the angel standing over him.

 

“You live this ramshackle life, running around in these fleabag motels, and yet you're always,” Lucifer runs a finger lovingly down the jut of Sam's jaw, “so smooth.”

 

Sam flexes his jaw in disgust, tries to move his arms and legs despite the knowledge that he's fixed to the barber's chair like a moth on a pin. The metal is so cold under his naked flesh that it almost sears him, freezer-burn radiating out every time he strains.

 

Lucifer holds the straight-razor up to the dingy overhead light and squints, turns the blade until Sam can see it glint. Humming absently to himself he pulls the leather strop taut with one hand and swipes the blade across it.

 

Sam closes his eyes with shame as he feels himself getting harder with each pass of the razor against the fine-grained leather,  _thwik thwik thwik_  sound filling the room around them.

 

“You have such beautiful skin, Sam. Has anyone ever told you that?” Lucifer swipes the blade three more times before he's satisfied.

 

Sam tries to keep his eyes closed every time but he never succeeds. When he opens them Lucifer is smiling at him, steaming hot towel in his hands. “It's one of my favorite things about you, Sam.”

 

Lucifer unfolds the towel reverently, eyes placid as he gently places it over Sam's face, covering the lower half of it.

 

Sam grits his teeth against the pleasure of it, the soothing heat seeping into his skin like a balm to the freezing cold underneath him.

 

These are the worst tortures, the soothing touches, the gentle caresses and affections, the little endearments that tear Sam up inside. He'd rather be whipped until he bled, wracked and gutted while Lucifer laughed.

 

Instead he feels his skin softening, gentle pressure of Lucifer's palms against his cheeks in a loving embrace. “So soft, Sam, such an even complexion...”

 

Sam tries to focus on the cold, tries to turn away from the sweet warmth on his face and warmer ache of his cock steadily hardening with each touch.

 

Lucifer whisks the towel off and runs a finger along Sam's cheek. “Perfect.” He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Sam's forehead.

 

Sam cringes as much as he can, which really isn't much at all, held in place by Lucifer's grace and his own fear.

 

Lucifer lathers his face with the soft pearl-handled brush, gentle swirl of it tickling against his skin. The foamy lather covers him, sweet smell of eucalyptus and rosemary filling his nose and making his head swim.

 

When Lucifer's done he places the brush on the table next to them and picks up his blade. Sam has to admit that it's beautiful, inlaid pearl handle, perfectly-honed steel blade wickedly sharp and shining.

 

Sam tries to focus on the gleam of it, the sharpness. Lucifer holds it like an extension of his hand, perfect angle of the handle jutting up between his ring finger and his pinky, pad of his smallest finger resting on the tang of the blade.

 

Sam watches as Lucifer steadies his forefingers against the dull side of the blade, balancing it in his hand as he rakes his eyes over Sam's face, smile on his lips making his meaning all too clear.

 

This is what Sam is, a perfect instrument, whetted and worked his entire life for one purpose.

 

The thought makes Sam's stomach turn even as he feels his cock thickening. He doesn't know if Lucifer's grace has any part of it, if it's simply one more form of constraint. He doesn't want to know.

 

Sam sees the blade glint one last time, flash in his eyes before he feels the familiar weight settle down against him.

 

Lucifer is straddled in his lap, legs wrapping around the metal chair, elbows resting casually against Sam's shoulders as he sighs and leans his head against his hand, surveying Sam's face.

 

“Who taught you to shave, Sam?” Lucifer asks softly, free hand running through Sam's hair. “Was it your father?” Lucifer blinks slowly, languorous hum as he twirls Sam's hair in his fingers.

 

“Or was it your brother?” the angel whispers, sweet as sin in Sam's ear as warm, swirling tendrils of grace ghost along his cock. Sam groans as he feels it, writhing pressure positioning him right at Lucifer's entrance.

 

Sam knows fighting won't do him any good, but he still tries, muscles cramping with the effort of it. It's a useless battle that Sam clings to, needs to fight it every time, needs to fight how good it feels or everything is lost.

 

Lucifer envelops him like heaven itself, relentless clench of him against Sam's cock stripping him bare until he has to roll his eyes back in his head for want of any other movement.

 

Sam feels his cheek being pulled taut, skin stretching smooth against the gentle slide of the razor down his face, arc of the blade against his jaw indistinguishable from the gritty drag of his cock inside of Lucifer.

 

“It was Dean, wasn't it?” Lucifer smiles fondly, little shake of his head as he cleans the blade on the towel thrown over his shoulder. “You think Dean taught you how to be a man.” He says it like a simple statement, matter of fact, like he isn't holding a deadly blade and squeezing Sam's cock hard enough to turn him inside out.

 

Lucifer runs a few quick licks of the blade over Sam's chin, brows furrowed with concentration. Sam would rather have his throat sliced open than this, this loving fixation on his task, like Lucifer will break him if he isn't careful, like he's something precious and delicate.

 

“They aren't your family, Sam.” Lucifer wipes the blade clean and leans in until Sam has no choice but to look him in the eyes. “You always knew that, didn't you?”

 

Nothing about Lucifer is human, so saying that the things he does to Sam's cock are inhuman is a paltry way to put it. Sam's not sure he'd even be conscious if he felt them under any other circumstance.

 

Lucifer isn't even moving, not in any way Sam can see, but his insides are undulating, writhing and gripping every exposed nerve Sam has, relentless onslaught on his senses that makes him see gray around the edges.

 

“I'm your family, Sam.” The sympathetic smile on the angel's face makes Sam taste bile as he carefully runs the blade across Sam's chin. “You were made for me.”

 

The pressure building inside of him is painful, no outlet for it when Sam's restrained liked this, nothing to bite down on or punch his fist against. Sam won't let it out until it's forced from him, not like this.

 

“I know they cared for you, Sam, and they have my gratitude for that, I assure you.” Lucifer  _tsks_  his tongue as he scrapes down the plane of Sam's other cheek, “But they couldn't give you what you needed, could they, Sam?”

 

Sam manages to choke out a noise when he feels it, cool tickle against his entrance, stretching him open without filling him up. It's too much, even for Sam.

 

“Yes, that's right.” Lucifer kisses his forehead again as Sam loses control and comes, grace releasing the constraint on his hips so he can thrust up into Lucifer, body taking over and seizing with pleasure.

 

This is the worst part, how good it feels, how everything overwhelms him and overrides his brain until he forgets that he doesn't want this.

 

“I understand you, Sam, like no one else ever will.” Lucifer wipes the towel over Sam's face, gently cleaning off the soap until he's satisfied. “There, you're perfect.”

 

Lucifer rolls himself around in a figure eight in Sam's lap, sinuous movements too fluid to be human. Sam whimpers as he feels his cock getting hard again inside the angel, Lucifer's sick version of healing him.

 

“That emptiness inside of you, Sam,” Lucifer strokes his hair fondly, “it wasn't some flaw, some defect like you always thought.”

 

Sam wishes he could deny it, but even if his lips could move, it would be a lie. Sam feels it, that hollow ache that never really goes away.

 

“You're perfect, Sam, perfect for me.” That twisting grip on his cock never really stopped, but now it's tighter, hotter, constricting Sam to just this side of painful. “You weren't empty, Sam, you were just waiting.”

 

Sam knows it shouldn't feel right, shouldn't make sense, shouldn't so clearly present the sum total of all the times he's felt different, wrong, broken.

 

“You'll never feel it again, Sam.” The dry heat against his cock is all rasping grit against the cool, slick touch pulling him wider. “Let me in, Sam.”

 

Sam clenches his jaw as hard as he can, tries to turn away as Lucifer kisses him, chaste press of his lips as Sam feels another orgasm ripped out of him.

 

Whether it was forced or not, Sam doesn't want to know. He just closes his eyes and rides it out.

 

They go on like this for hours, Sam fighting every drop of pleasure that Lucifer wrings out of him, but it's always a losing battle. By the time he's coming dry inside the angel, tears running down his face, endless stretch at his hole making him feel crazed, he feels like a husk of himself, nothing left to lose.

 

Lucifer wipes the tears in his eyes and leans in to whisper in his ear. “It can all end, Sam, all your suffering, your loneliness, all your pain.”

 

Sam wants it so badly, grace splitting him open until he wants to sob for it, and for neither the first nor the last time Sam flirts with it, split second of contemplation as he teeters on the edge of the void inside him, hollowness that's followed him through life like a beast at his back.

 

“Just say it, Sam. Two words, that's all.” Lucifer holds Sam's face in his hands, paternal embrace that Sam never knew from anyone else. “I consent, Sam. You know there's only one way this ends.”

 

Sam gasps as he feels the hold on his mouth released, grunts out a long noise as he works his jaw, tongue stiff as it licks over his lips. “I ...” Sam rasps in a breath and looks up at the smiling angel seated on him, blade still poised in his hand.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Sam screams as he feels the blade slice into his throat, screams as he feels warm pressure wrapping around his chest, screams as something shakes him and yells his name.

 

“Sam! Sam! Sammy!”

 

Sam thrashes against it and puts his hands to his throat, waiting to feel blood rushing over his fingers and finding damp sweat instead, eyes focusing as Dean slaps him.

 

“Sammy, wake the fuck up.” Dean's face is right against his, warm breath skating over Sam's cheek the sweetest thing he's ever felt.

 

“Dean,” Sam just chokes out his name and turns into him, breathes him in as he sobs against his chest.

 

“Just a dream, Sammy, it's ok,” Dean runs his hand up and down Sam's back, rough hangnail on his finger scraping against Sam's skin like it has since he was young.

 

“Dean, please...” Sam doesn't have to ask for anything, unspoken need in his voice that Dean can read like a book.

 

“I got you, Sammy.” Dean works him onto his back, deep press of his lips against Sam's as he readies them both, sheen of spit the only thing between them as Dean slides into him.

 

It hurts like being alive, like being human and flawed and perfect just as they are. Dean comes inside him, Sam's name repeated over and over again like it can fill the parts of him he can't touch.

 

Sam knows that it can only end one way, but it won't end tonight, and Sam sighs against his brother as he feels himself made whole one more time.

 


End file.
